


Deep Blue

by gusryder



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2017 Stanley Cup Playoffs, F/M, M/M, Not Cheating, Pining-sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gusryder/pseuds/gusryder
Summary: "Fucking Ducks. I don’t have any ice packs left."





	Deep Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Was originally set after Game 2 against the Ducks but really could be set after any away game in that series.   
> I had this written right after the game and then sat on it hoping I could make it part of a larger fic but nothing I have going on works with this so I'm posting it as a stand alone. 
> 
> Blessed as always to have viennajones provide her mad beta skillz (and for being the one to inform me that Connor's gf was at Game 2 spawning this entire fic).

He's tired and sore and readily accepts her hug, pulling her close to him, enjoying the way her body fits against his, the smell of her hair. He breathes her in for a moment, enjoying the coconut smell of her shampoo - a sharp contrast to gear funk and game sweat from the locker room.

They go back to his hotel room, ignoring the suggestive winks from the other guys. Once they are in his room, her hands slide into his jacket and she's pulling him toward her for a kiss. He allows it, enjoying the fact that she's taking control and he can just hold her. Her lips are soft and she walks him back toward the bed. Connor knows what she wants when, eyes intent, she begins unbuttoning his shirt.

Eyes half closed, he watches her, content to let her run the show and not sure how much energy he has to do much more. Slipping her hands into his shirt he hisses when her hand skates across his side. He catches her wrist and pulls her hand away. The sharp pain of his bruised ribs has brought an awareness to all the small aches and pains of tired muscles and old bruises his body wears.

He mumbles something about ice packs and cold pads and retreats to his suitcase to find something to put on his banged up ribs. Fumbling through his luggage, he frowns and comes up empty handed. He must have used them up the previous game. Normally he doesn't go through them that quickly but the Ducks have played a hard game and he has been their whipping boy.

He takes the opportunity to shrug out of his dress shirt and throw on a soft cotton t-shirt. He feels arms come around his waist and she presses up against him, murmuring questions about his wellbeing. He allows himself to sink back into her a bit and then begins to fumble for his belt, eager to get out of his suit.

She playfully paws his hands away and deftly removes his belt and undoes his fly, sliding her hands into the waistband of his underwear and pulling his pants and briefs down in a smooth motion. He obediently steps out of his pants and she brushes her hand along the inside of his thigh in a less than innocent gesture. He's not sure if he can handle sex right now. Feels numb to her hands moving along his body. He's just so tired.

He grabs a pair of sweatpants and slips them on, turning to face her, ignoring the flash of hurt in her eyes. He explains he needs ice packs for his ribs. That he's so tired he's about to pass out. That he really just wants to go to bed. She looks disappointed and he feels guilty. Then he feels annoyed with the whole situation. He's well within his rights to be tired after a shit storm game like that. He shouldn't feel obligated to anything or anyone else tonight.

He leaves the safety latch open so the door doesn't lock when he leaves the room. Leon is across the hall and never seems to use any of his compresses and tape or pain killers. He seemed totally unaffected by the big hits while Connor feels ninety years old after another rough game.

Leon answers the door with a surprised look on his face. It was no secret that Connor isn't alone tonight. Leon steps away from the door and waves Connor in, letting Connor follow him into his room.

He can feel Leon watching him and finally Connor sags against the wall, head tilted back and breathes for the first time since he left the Honda Centre.

"You ok?" Leon asks and Connor realizes that to Leon's eyes, Connor left a romantic tryst with his girlfriend to show up, unspeaking, at Leon's door.

A heavy hand is on Connor's shoulder and Leon is suddenly very close, a concerned look on his face. Connor inhales deeply and lets his body relax, the familiar scent of Leon's game day cologne easing the tension in his body.

He opens his eyes to meet Leon's concerned gaze. "Fucking Ducks. I don't have any ice packs left." He gestures at his side. Leon's brow furrows and he looks like he wants to say more but instead he turns to his bag and rummages through it before pulling out two ice packs and some tape and returns to where Connor is still slumped against the wall, content to watch Leon move around with lidded eyes.

Connor goes to accept the offered supplies when Leon pulls his hand back, "let's see,"� he says with a nod at Connor's ribs. Connor obliges, lifting his shirt, so Leon can see the purple and black colors added to the yellow of the previous games.

Leon bites his lip sympathetically and steps closer before crouching down to see the colors in all of their glory. Leon curses and trails one lone finger up the side of Connor's ribs, the back of his knuckle dragging gently across the sensitive skin. The air is sucked out of Connor's lungs as Leon's touch sends sparks up his side. The touch is electric and Connor tries to mask the shiver that runs through him.

Leon murmurs an apology and stands up, still within Connor's space. Leon's eyes are dark and focused, still too close to Connor. The air feels too hot and Connor's body is alive and tingling. He needs to get out of here.

He grabs the cold packs from Leon and slides along the wall sideways, making his way to the door. He stammers a thank-you and rushes out and across the hall before pausing at his door.

He stops to catch his breath before stepping into the room, alit with the glow of one lamp. She's in bed waiting for him and smiles brightly when she sees him. He toes off his socks but hesitates at his pants. He leaves them on and doesn't miss her frown as he slides into bed with her.

He's exhausted, he explains to her. And sore. She kisses his shoulder sympathetically and 20 minutes ago, he would have taken comfort in her warmth and support. Now her touch feels too abrasive and cold. She rolls over with a sigh and Connor shuts the light off, pressing the compress to his side.

Just a short time ago and he was so bone weary, he couldn't even imagine taking a hot shower. Now as he lies in his bed, the sound of her breathing and downtown traffic muted in the dark room, he is wide awake. He stares at the ceiling and sees Leon's dark eyes staring back at him. Body fever-warm with the proximity they shared. The cold pack is doing its job but Connor can still feel Leon's touch imprinted onto his skin.

She shifts in her sleep and Connor rolls out of bed with a sigh. He'll step into the shower and the heat will ease his sore muscles and maybe he will be able to sleep next to his girlfriend and forget all about dark blue eyes and soft touches.

 


End file.
